These Things Don't Happen
by novembertree
Summary: Kurt had been absolutely certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was no way in hell that Puck was checking him out.


Kurt had been absolutely certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was _no way in hell_ that Puck was checking him out.

But then - right in the middle of one of Schue's famous pep talks - Puck had leaned over to him and whispered; "I can't wait to get you out of those tight-fucking-pants." The jock's lips had practically _grazed_ his ears, and thank god Kurt didn't start hyperventilating or something equally embarrassing, because that did NOT just happen.

And he continued to assume that he had just, you know, heard wrong. Or was hallucinating - maybe McKinley had put some LSD in the salad or - or _something_. It really wasn't until two periods later, after school had let out, that Kurt discovered that he wasn't actually insane. He'd nearly forgotten about it entirely when, as he walked through the vacant parking lot [he'd had to stay late after school to take care of some things], he saw Puck, leaning casually against his baby, his car.

… the_ fuck_.

Okay, something was definitely up. The dumpster was too far away for Puck to carry him on his own, not when he was struggling. And no, there was no way that Puck was checking him out right now, eyes sweeping over his perfect outfit, tongue flicking out to lick his lips—_ohgodthat'ssexy_. Wait. No. His salad _must've_ been spiked.

Kurt swallowed the lump forming in his throat, his heart racing as he neared the other boy. With only a couple of yards between them now, Puck pushed away from the Navigator, taking a step towards him. Kurt tried swallowing again, but to no avail. It seemed his heart was trying to shove its way up his esophagus. The jock smirked.

"Hey."

Kurt narrowed his eyes, trying to adopt his usual cool sensibility, despite the utter chaos wreaking havoc in his mind.

"… hey."

Puck's smile widened and he tilted his head with his normal cocky swagger. Kurt breathed in sharply, trying to keep his eyes focused on the boy's face.

"So, what are we waiting for?" Kurt stiffened, his coolness giving way to a baffled expression; "… what do you mean, _Puckerman_?" Puck laughed, taking another step towards the shorter boy.

"What do I mean?" He leaned forward, trailing a casual finger from Kurt's neatly pressed collar to the bottom seam of his new Marc Jacobs shirt. Kurt shivered. "Well, _Hummel_, I thought you looked too fuckable in those skin-tight jeans to pass up." He leaned back, grinning with his chin up; "And I _know_ you wouldn't say no to the one and only Puckasaurus." He spread his arms as if to say, 'fuck, who_ could?_'

Kurt scoffed, trying not to laugh. He wouldn't deny that Puck was … _attractive_. … okay, he was really, _really _hot. The mohawk was sort of silly, but he pulled it off with his over bounding confidence. But this - this all seemed like a cruel, cruel joke. Like at any moment, the rest of Glee club would pop out and say 'April Fools!' - except it was the middle of August. He narrowed his eyes at the jock before heaving the sigh of a boy that's been bullied one-too-many times.

"How do I know you're not playing some joke on me?" Puck's eyebrows shot up, and he looked genuinely surprised. He opened his mouth to say something, then paused, as if he was correcting himself in his head. He seemed to recover, trying to smirk again but looking a little dissapointed that Kurt wasn't swooning or throwing himself at him, or something equally girly and ridiculous.

"C'mon, I haven't dumpstered you in like, forever." Kurt frowned, trying to recall the last time he'd had to dig himself up out of the trash. Puck appeared to have caught his hesitance and smirked a little; "And it's been _forever_ since I locker-slammed you. Or slushied you, for that matter."

Kurt fixed his hair absentmindedly, looking a little torn. The boy was right, the bullying had really stopped on his part since … well, since he'd joined Glee. Karofsky and Azimio had stepped up, but … Puck, Puck had stopped.

"I guess …" Kurt looked a little disconcerted. "Yes, I suppose you're correct." Puck grinned widely, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"So, your place or mine?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, blushing profusely despite his every effort not to.

"Is there no _romance_ with you?" Puck looked legitimately surprised for the second time already. Kurt tried not to laugh; the poor boy probably wasn't used to such a struggle. Girls seemed to just _fall_ into his lap, why shouldn't a flaming boy like him do the same?

Puck shrugged it off though, rebounding quickly with a step forward and a hand around Kurt's waist. Kurt gasped, glancing up and finding himself swimming in amber eyes.

"Oh, I can be romantic. I play guitar, don't I?"

Kurt scoffed, turning his head so he could try to dispel the dizziness and attempt at eradicating the blush that seemed to have found a permanent home in his cheeks.

"You do." Puck probably looked irritated [Kurt couldn't see while he was turned away] … or maybe he was simply unaffected. Because the next thing he knew, Puck had cupped Kurt's cheek, turning his head back towards him and sliding his hand to lift his chin up. Their lips met and Kurt seemed to lose all ability to stand on his own, leaning heavily against Puck, who chuckled heartily into the kiss.

"… I'll take that as a maybe."


End file.
